


Stay With Me

by xo_stardust720



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character death is mentioned, F/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romanogers Week 2018, Take my hand, romanogersweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xo_stardust720/pseuds/xo_stardust720
Summary: He stands and reaches out his hand to her. “Stay with me?”She takes his hand, pulling herself up to stand beside him and doesn’t let go. "Always," she promises.(He believes her.)





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> For Romanogers Week Summer Deluxe Challenge 2018, 'Take My Hand.'

_Oh, won't you stay with me?_

_'Cause you're all I need_

_\- Sam Smith_

 

Steve wakes up with a headache. A pounding headache. One that lodges into the contours of his inner skull and rattles until he moans in pain. Even before he opens his eyes, he knows that something is inevitably wrong. It’s a feeling that settles deep in his bones, one that he can’t quite shake no matter how many deep breaths he takes.

What happened?

Then there it is. A flash of memory… _memories_ flowing through his mind too quickly for him to fathom. _Blood, so much blood_ … Thunder and lightning. Red streaks and magic all across the sky. Screaming and angry snarls. Aliens charging at them. Explosions --unexpected ones-- ripping through their shields and weapons and--

_Thanos.  
_

His mind shuts down.

_No!_

It won’t tell him, his mind. It won’t tell him… what happened.

(Maybe he doesn’t want to know.)

(Or, maybe his mind still can’t comprehend it.)

The pounding in his head doesn’t stop. Over and over again, it reverberates in his cranium, like a record on loop. He opens his eyes, looks up, and realizes he’s outside… the sight of Wakanda’s scenery is staring back at him. Somehow he’s near the edge of a cliff. His fingers press into the rocks and harsh ground beneath him, tiny pebbles biting into his palm. It stings, but that pain is nothing.  The world is spinning but he can't stop himself from staring, unable to tear his eyes away even if he wanted too.

He can see what’s around him.

It isn’t the rubble that surprises him. It isn’t the destroyed buildings, the smell of burning flesh from the dead aliens from space, it isn’t the still burning fires in the background or the ruined landscape of what was once an unbelievably beautiful country.

It’s the utter silence that surrounds him.

(It’s too quiet. Hauntingly so.)

And suddenly nothing else matters.

Steve Rogers wakes up and sees them dead.

Every one of them. Their non-existent bodies in front of him, twisted and littering the ground, decaying among the decayed rubble of their battlefield. Broken… shattered... deformed, the smell of copper in the air, the bright stain of crimson among the ruins. The smell of death infiltrating all around him.

Steve Rogers wakes up and see ghosts among the piles and piles of dust.

He wants to vomit. If his stomach wasn’t so empty, he could have. Instead, he coughs, hacking up whatever mucus and saliva still remains within him.

He pulls himself up from the ground. Steve is almost surprised. He didn’t think he would be able to move. He takes a step forward, his boots sliding against the dark piles of... --his mind shuts down again. _Don’t think about, don’t think about it, don’t think--_

He steps on something hard. He looks down.

And--

It was a gun. Long, big, black in color. Made to kill, made to destroy. Powerful.

_Bucky’s gun._

And then the ghosts comes back to haunt him.

“ _Steve?_ ”

Right before his very eyes, he sees Bucky fall and turn to dust. Ashes in a pile, ashes scattered all around. Big, brave James Buchanan Barnes, reporting for duty. Charming smiles and flirty winks, making all the pretty dames giggle and blush. Bucky, his best friend since childhood, his first friend. _His family._ Bucky, who had just gotten his life back, had just found a small sense of peace. Bucky, who was so tired of war but stood proudly next to him, ready to give it his all, ready to fight. And now he’s--

_Gone._

And just like that, a river of memories flows through his mind, faster than he can stop it. The ghosts are here and they aren’t leaving. Steve falls to his knees, catching his head and tries to breathe, tries to stop from remembering--

_“Where to, Cap?”_

Spunky, sassy, Sam Wilson. Kind eyes and a mischievous-but-easy-going smile. Animated and fearless, and someone that Steve trusted immediately and without question. Steve could still hear Rhodes’ frantic cries in the distance  -- _”Yo, Sam! Sam, where you at?! Sam!!” --_ and his heart hurts when he realizes that he hadn’t even kept track of Sam during the fight. Sam Wilson, with his courageous heart and following Steve into battle without hesitation. Sam, who should have never followed his lead. Dependable Sam, whom Steve considered family, a brother… Sam, who was _alone_ when he--

Steve lets out a gasp and turns his head. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think--_

And there, off to the edge near some broken trees… the only visible body from their side… grey and lifeless; motionless. Tossed aside carelessly in the quest to get to something bigger. Dead, among the piles of ashes and dust. 

“ _We don’t trade lives, Captain._ ”

Vision. Astute and sensible Vision. Pure in some ways, but oh-so-wise in most aspects. So very human in all the ways that mattered. He was the bravest of them all, his very life that they should’ve protected above all else… eyes closed as if he had accepted his premature death somewhere in the short time span between living and dying. It wasn’t fair! Vision was just beginning to discover life and its true meaning when--

_“NOOOOO!”_

Even now, Wanda’s screams still echo through the air in agony and despair.

Sweet smiles, and sunny disposition… innocent-yet-has-seen-too-much and just beginning to discover the highs and lows of all that love had to offer. Wanda Maximoff, the little sister he never had but always secretly wished for, wide-green-eyes that gazed up at him with curiosity and gratefulness when seeking for advice. Wanda, who was just a kid fading away too soon, killed by Thanos in the midst of all her heartbreak…

_All they wanted was more time…_

Perhaps she and Vision are together somewhere and at peace.

(It’s a thought he can barely stand to have. They should be _here_.)

Steve feels dizzy and he trembles; his chest heaves and feels tight as he struggles to inhale… to exhale… and is this a panic attack? He hasn’t had a panic attack in a long while and the feeling is almost foreign. He lets out another gasp and turns from Vision’s body. If he looks for too long he’ll just… fade into nothing. Maybe that would be better… maybe feeling empty would be better than feeling all this pain that threatens to consume him.

Darkness swarms his senses and he shuts his eyes, willing himself to not blackout again.

“Steve? Steve!”

His heart lurches and panic fills him. _No!_

_No, no, no, NO!_

_It’s not real. She’s not--_

_Not her, please not her!_

Natasha’s voice drifts across the breeze and enveloping him with its warmth. There’s concern and care… maybe even hints of desperation that comes across the decibels of her words. He can’t tell if its real or not, doesn’t want to open his eyes… too afraid to find out if Thanos took her too.

Soulful eyes, and fiery red hair turned blonde. Hard, calloused hands made for soothing even as her feet are made for kicking. Red-in-her-ledger, and forever trying to atone. The image of her is crystal clear in his mind for always.

“Oh God…” the words are ripped from his throat. Somewhere deep inside Steve there’s a hollow place and now it fills. Rage, grief, agony, pain. His face twists and he knows that now… now there will be _nothing_ if Natasha is--

It’s all too much.

He had been captivated with her from the beginning, becoming a team almost effortlessly from the very start. Natasha with the know-how and Steve with the leadership skills. It had taken some effort, but it was Nat and Steve, trusting each other, learning from each other and saving people and the world from disaster after disaster. A chance meeting and the spark of attraction that followed, and before he knew it, he was enraptured by her completely.

Teasing smiles, a smirk on her lips. She was an enigma that he could never solve but damn, he always had fun trying. Unspoken feelings that he thought were returned, but never had the chance to explore. Waiting, and waiting. Always waiting. Was it too late? There were secret dreams with Natasha. Secret dreams that Steve had wrapped around himself at night like a security blanket. When he was sure no one was listening, he would whisper things to himself and imagine what it would be like if they were ever achieved.

(It’s what he imagines his happiness, his _forever_ would look like.)

A house, a marriage, a safe world. And Natasha. _The right partner_. Natasha was there, in the center of his secret dreams. Smiling with her long curling red hair, smelling like gunpowder and danger. Sometimes she was sleeping in a tangle of blankets, naked body barely concealed by the pristine white of sheets and a gold ring adorning the fourth finger on her left hand as she clutches the fabric. And then sometimes, they’re in the middle of a park, surrounded by laughter as they watch a child ( _their_ child) running after a puppy and he kisses her lips for all the world to see.

But he doesn’t know if Natasha is also---

Dead. Gone. Dust. A ghost.

_Please, not her too._

“Steve! Steve, it’s _me_!”

Hands that were cold and clammy grasp his face but there’s hints of tenderness in them too. Not lifeless and still, like he was afraid it would be. Steve blinks, and suddenly Natasha is right _there_ in front of him, her silvery blonde hair (yet, another thing that was wrong… he misses the _red_ ) matted down with dirt and blood falling in front of her face. She brushes it aside, relief etched out all over her features as she looks him over.

“Natasha… Nat?” he coughs, afraid to believe she was really in front of him at that moment. His voice sounds old, rusty, ancient. Sore from screaming as he lived through the horrors that is this war.

“Thank God you’re alright,” her voice trembles, there are tears in her eyes and she hugs him tightly causing him to tip over and fall fully to the ground. Her body sprawls over his and he has yet to put his arms around her, unable to believe she was really there. She pulls back and now he sees concern. “Steve?”

He stares at her blankly, unable to focus. Unable to comprehend.

“Rogers!” Her voice is sharp, and it sends a jolt running through him. “Are you with me? C’mon soldier!” She grabs one of his hands and brings it to her cheek, her fingers intertwining atop of his. Slowly, he feels the warmth from her skin begin to seep through to his fingertips and it starts to sink in that _she’s really there_ in front of him. His heart bursts and he can feel his own eyes welling up. He doesn’t wipe them away.

“Nat? _Nat_!” he cries out, relief filling him. The ghosts surrounding him fade away and he takes a deep breath, inhaling her familiar scent. The hand that’s laced with hers is like a lifeline and Steve clutches it tightly. His other arm wraps around her waist and he’s pulling her even closer to him, swearing to never let go again. “You’re alive!” He curls himself around Natasha, his hands lock around her smaller ones. He can’t stop touching her. One hand trails up her arm, over her shoulder, and then buries itself in her hair.

He can’t help himself.

He kisses her. Hard and rough, her lips parting in surprise as a gasp escapes. But then she kisses him back just as desperately, and he relishes in it. He loves the feel of them, her lips against his… lips meant for kissing, lips meant for smiling, lips meant for _breathing_.

They pull apart and he sees the love he feels reflected in her eyes. He sees it so clearly now. He stands and reaches out his hand to her. “Stay with me?”

_They’re alive, and they’re together._

_It’s not too late._

Natasha takes his hand, pulling herself up to stand beside him and doesn’t let go. Their fingers interlock and they're forever a single unit. A team. _Partners till the end of the line_ , whenever that may be. The feeling in Steve’s chest loosens and it feels easier to breathe. “Always,” she promises. He believes her.

_They’re together._

  
( _And Thanos is going to feel their vengeance_.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're gonna leave comments, please let them be nice ones! :)


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